I'm Theon Greyjoy

Fully completed story at:

patreon.com/FanFictionPremium

***

Theon liked Winterfell. It was an ancient fortress with many secrets. And it lived up to its title as the former fiefdom of the Winter Kings-the fortress was quite large, with high walls and a strong garrison.

As he walked through the streets of Winter City, Theon kept catching glances from passersby, mostly because he was carrying a parrot on his shoulder. The parrot, its claws digging into his leather clothes, was perched on his shoulder and looking proudly at the northerners.

Winterfell was a small settlement nestled against the walls of Winterfell. A couple of dirty streets lined with taverns, inns, and shops. In the present day, when Summer reigned in Westeros, Winterfell was not crowded. But as soon as the first cold weather arrives, many farmers and villagers arrive from all over the North. Even a fair number of Highlanders come to survive the winter here.

Theon has been in the Stark stronghold for a few days now, and he's had time to get used to the place. Theon asked permission to go out into Wintertown before he knew the whole castle. And received an approving reply.

'Not even a couple of his own guards,' Greyjoy thought. - 'Lord Stark's not easy. Apparently he's testing whether or not I'll try to escape.'

Theon was under no illusions-no sooner had he left Winterfell than he would be intercepted by local hunters who knew the land like the back of their hand. If Stark wants to give him a louse test, he'll pass it.

Wintertown was nothing special, so Theon didn't walk long. Even Lannisport, which he had seen for a couple of hours at most, had impressed him more.

He returned to the castle and caught a glimpse of the local master at arms, Ser Rodrik Cassel. Maybe he thought Theon wouldn't be back?

After politely greeting this Ser, and receiving a nod in return, Theon made his way to the local godswood. It was a place sacred to the northerners he had not yet been to and decided to quench his curiosity.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''"'

At the entrance, the parrot decided to leave his shoulder and flew deep into the branches of a huge, sprawling tree in the centre of the mound.

There was a certain antiquity about the whole place, Theon felt it as he took a few steps forward. The painted faces on the trees evoked a kind of irrational apprehension. Looking at them, Greyjoy had the uncomfortable feeling that someone was watching him. Evaluating, like a merchant looking at merchandise.

- You shouldn't stare too long at the faces of the Chardrews. - A voice drifted through the quiet moor. Theon turned round and saw Eddard Stark sitting on a stump with his huge, long sword. He had not noticed that he was not alone.

- Lord Stark. - Theon bowed his head politely. - I didn't expect to see you here.

-I always come here when I need to think in silence. - Stark had a rag in his hand, which he used intermittently to wipe across his Valyrian sword. - I feel at peace among the Chardrevs.

- I even envy you,' Theon smiled crookedly. If the Lord of Winterfell wants to speak, more openly, he's fine with that. - The Drowned God does not have temples built of stone or mantles of ancient Chardwood. The sea is the great temple of the Sea God.

-That's what it is. - Eddard marvelled. - I don't know much about the Iron Islands. - He admitted and put the Valyrian sword aside.

- Stone wastelands on the edge of the known world are of little interest to anyone. - shrugged his shoulders. - I'm sure the septons are ascribing every mortal sin to us and praying that the Iron Islands will be punished by the Seven like Valyria.

At Stark's questioning look, Theon explained:

- I've read a theory among the septons that Valyria was punished by the Seven for their cruelty, corruption, and slavery, which they practised for centuries.

- I never knew about that. - Silent Wolf shook his head. - How did you know about it?

- I read it in a book. The Seven-Pointed Star, it's called.

And already at the shocked look in his eyes, Theon laughed. He laughed loud and loud. He hadn't laughed like that in a long time.

Greyjoy was amused in his mind by the irony that talking to his jailer was so much easier than talking to his father or his uncles.

- I hope you're joking. - Stark smiled. He liked the boy's reaction. He is not as cold as he wants to appear.

- Not at all, Lord Stark. I actually read the Seven-Pointed Star when the septs were not yet destroyed on the Iron Islands. - Theon replied.

- I saw the destroyed septs in Pyke. Do the Ironborn hate the septons so much?

- You have no idea. I saw my Uncle Euron cut off a septon's limbs and drown the poor man alive in the sea. Everyone in Lordport, the town that stands near Pyke, saw it. No one stood up for him, and some even shouted that this was what slaves of the gods of the Green Continent should do.

Eddard looked at Theon disbelievingly.

-Did you watch, too? - He asked.

- Yes,' Greyjoy said indifferently. - I'd just returned with my uncle from a raid in the Summer Isles and was strolling through the city. I watched from the beginning to the end, until the old septon finally disappeared into the sea.

He wasn't going to create the illusion that Theon was just a boy who hadn't spilled blood yet and was therefore innocent and pure. He would have to show Stark what the little kraken was made of and see how he really felt about him.

He expected to see anything - contempt, pity, or anger. But Theon couldn't read anything in Stark's eyes-he was like a wall of ice. Just cold, indifferent eyes.

- I realise, Theon, that you were born and bred on the Iron Islands. - Eddard spoke up and sighed. He looked into his ward's eyes with heartfelt concern. - And you must feel like a prisoner locked in a cage. But you will be treated here as my ward or squire. No one will reproach you for your origins or say a bad word to you.

Theon stood up abruptly. The Silent Wolf feared in his heart that his words had been misunderstood and that the boy would become even more withdrawn. But the little Greyjoy's subsequent actions made Stark wonder.

Theon held out his hand with the words. - Good, Lord Stark. I do feel uncomfortable in Winterfell. I am more comfortable being on the sea or on a sailing ship. But if what you say is true, I may someday be able to get along with you and your family.

The Silent Wolf was reassured-the son of Baelon had not taken offence, nor had he closed himself off from him completely. Eddard had feared the boy would become angry at the world for the injustice. A man who harbours a grudge and hides it is far more dangerous than an enemy who openly hates you.

After a moment's hesitation, he held out his hand in return, sealing the shake. Stark felt the stiff palms of his hands, accustomed to the sword.

- And I, too, hope Winterfell will be your home. - Eddard said with a new smile.

Somewhere upstairs, hidden in the branches of a thick hardwood tree, a strange raven was watching this conversation. She was so engrossed in it that she did not notice the bird, unusual for these parts, approaching from behind.

Using its large paws, with long claws, the parrot pushed the crow off the branch with a quick jerk. With a loud shriek, the unexpected crow flew down for a while, as if in a daze. But then it pulled itself together and flapped its black wings and flew away.

And the parrot, who took the crow's place and watched it fly away, soon left the branch and flew away.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''"'

-Robb, Jon. Into the ring. - Rodrik shouted to the two boys of the same age standing next to each other. They were as different as heaven and earth, though they were sons of the same man.

A smiling red-haired boy and a scowling black-haired bastard named John came onto the training field.

They stood opposite each other.

-You'll be the one on the ground tonight, Snow,' the heir to Winterfell told his bastard brother cheerfully.

- We'll see about that, Stark. - The features on Jon's small face smoothed out, becoming more friendly.

- Begin! - the weapons master immediately commanded.

Watching the inept attacks of the two children, Theon stroked the parrot that sat nearby, on the wooden railing.

It had been a week since they had spoken to Lord Stark. They had begun to talk to each other often - despite his young age, Theon could talk about a wide variety of topics, thanks to his reading and self-education. But the Lord of the North was not always able to pay attention to Greyjoy, for managing the North took up a great deal of Stark's time and energy.

Now, bored, he watched these childish games with an indifferent gaze. Too inept at swordsmanship, no clever tricks at all. Although the bastard is better at it. As he had demonstrated by defeating little Robb.

- Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. - The parrot laughed across the courtyard as the heir to Winterfell fell to the ground. The red-haired Stark blushed and looked angrily first at the pet and then at Theon himself. But meeting the strange boy's indifferent gaze, he turned away without answering.

- Robb, you put your legs out a little forward. That's what Jon caught you doing. And you, Snow, you often leave your right side open when you attack. - Ser Rodrik began to explain the boys' mistakes, and Theon sighed. He had no one to talk to but Maester Luwin and Lord Stark. Many of the servants tried not to talk to him, and those who were braver convinced him that the commoners were not particularly intelligent. He had nothing to talk to them about, their desires and thoughts were too primitive.

- Theon. Stand up to Lord Robb and Snow. - Rodrik told him. Greyjoy had nothing against stretching himself. He didn't forget to train, of course, and occasionally fought one of Lord Stark's guardsmen on the training field. He often won.

The Master of Arms knew this and decided to bring his two underlings down to a lower level. To show a realistic level.

Taking the wooden sword in his hands and feeling incredibly light, Theon asked with a smile:

-Well, who's first? - The boys looked at each other and simultaneously attacked him with the two of them.

Theon parried the unskilful blows with ease and immediately threw a few punches, knocking the bastard out. Jon, holding on to his arm, stepped aside.

Little Stark attacked fiercely, but ineptly. He began swinging his training sword like a club. His opponent noticed he was repeating a past mistake Rodrik had explained to him. He immediately took advantage of it.

The child fell to the ground again, dropping his sword. Before he knew it, the wooden point of the blade was next to Robb's face.

- P-lost, P-lost! - Robb's ears echoed with the voice of the vile bird. He almost cried at the humiliation he felt, but he struggled to control himself.

The wooden sword hovering over him disappeared from sight, and Robb saw an outstretched hand. Accepting the help, he stood up and looked at his recent adversary.

Still the same frighteningly indifferent eyes. Looking at them made Robb feel incredibly stupid, which he didn't like. He shook his hand, picked up his sword, and walked away, with Ser Rodrik's permission. And in the boy's ears was still the laughter of the strange, multi-coloured bird that constantly followed his father's ward.